


Unexpected Places

by killer_youth



Category: Cobra Starship, Panic! at the Disco, The Academy Is..., The Young Veins
Genre: College, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Gabe is a prostitute, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Prostitution, Self-Discovery, and it's not what it looks like, basically William is a college student, tags will increase as the story progresses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-09
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-12-25 19:47:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12042987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killer_youth/pseuds/killer_youth
Summary: Gabe and William should've never met. They were, quite simply put, opposites. One a college student, the other a prostitute; it would seem the odds were stacked against them. But both were on very similar paths of self-discovery, no matter how different the journey.





	Unexpected Places

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, this is the first fanfic I've ever posted online. I've written a few before, but have never had the balls to actually put it out there for others to read. Constructive criticism is always welcome and I hope you enjoy this first little piece. Thank you!

I awake with an achey body and a stiff neck. Another dirty alleyway wall staring at me. The first thing I do is check for the money in my back pocket. Still there, all one hundred dollars of it; my worth fit into a number and dollar sign. I slowly try to get up without hurting my back too much. The space is cramped, the two brick walls only three feet apart, but I had nowhere else to go. I'm so far away from home.

There was yet another bruise added to the collection that spread across my chest, stomach, and thighs, wrapping around to my back. Some were finally healing to a blotchy yellow/brown color, but that didn't matter. I would just gain new ones the next time I go out. I try to block out my thoughts by paying attention to the traffic whizzing past me a few meters away. At least I managed to pass out relatively safe from speeding cars this time.

I look down at my flashy skinny jeans. The bright neon green is ruined by scuffs of dirt and other variations of not-clean. My favorite purple hoodie is thankfully not ripped anywhere. To the laundromat it is, then. 

Walking down the street, I see all the normal people with normal jobs going on their normal way to work. How blissfully boring it must be. I'd give anything to be them. As I pass them by, they give me side glares and glances, some directed on my back, others not even caring if I catch them at it. But I don't blame them. I'm the dirt polluting their pristine city. I'm worse than nothing because if I was, I wouldn't be so bad.

I almost miss the advertising sign two feet in front of me stating, 'Washers! Dryers! And so much more!' The door opening trips the tiny bell above me to ring, letting everyone know I've entered the laundromat.

First thing I do is go up to the coin machine in the front and insert a twenty dollar bill, since that was the lowest I had. In return, I get twenty dollars worth of quarters, too many to count. With the extra money, I buy a little pack of detergent and fabric softener.

Choosing a machine in the back, I quickly strip out of my used clothes, leaving me in just my purple boxer briefs and my ratty pair of knockoff vans. It shouldn't bother me, being practically naked, considering that's basically what I do for a living. Or maybe it should bother me more, considering how I'm in a public building with strangers all around me.

While I'm waiting for my clothes to wash I sit on the dryer next to my machine, swinging my legs back and forth in rhythm to the clinks and clangs of the tired metal box. There's nowhere else to go for the time being. Nowhere else to be. Somehow, being alone with the noises of clothes in the wash calms me. It gives me a false sense of security, a faux feeling of home. I'm sure it won't last for long, so I take it in as much as possible.

As if on cue, another guy walks in. He looks around my age and maybe a little bit shorter than me, which is no surprise since pretty much everyone is shorter than me, so he's probably relatively tall for normal standards. He glances up at me and the first thing he says is, "Rough night?" His longish brown hair sways a little when he walks, along with his hips, and I can't tell if it's distracting or annoying.

"Ya," I reply. What else am I supposed to say? He's just a passerby.

"Mind telling?" He inquires as he starts loading his clothes into the washer across from mine. "Looks like we got plenty of time to get to know each other." 

I don't know what to say, now, considering how what I do is illegal and not a common conversation piece. "Just a late one at work," I shrug. It's not a complete lie. Lying has always made me uneasy when I'm not on the job.

"Oh, c'mon. You can't expect  
me to believe that," he jokes. "There's got to be a reason as to why you're washing your clothes in only your underwear at-" he looks at the wall clock above the entryway, "-almost eight o'clock in the morning. Not only that, but it looks like you picked a fight with a thug or something." His washing machine kicks into action and he jumps up onto the one next to it, imitating me.

"Yeah, I guess I do look pretty rough." I admit, looking down at the bruises I already knew existed.

He chuckles and raised his hand across the aisle. "William," he introduces himself as for the first time.

"Gabe," I say back and reach over to cross the distance and shake his hand. "Pleasure to meet you, William."

"Likewise, Gabe." We sit in a sort of awkward silence, waiting for each other to talk first. "Here," he says ultimately, "take my jacket. It's kinda chilly in the morning and you clearly need it more than I do right now." William quickly shrugs it off and gets up to drape it across my bare shoulders. Now that he mentions it, it is quite cold, but the jacket is warm from William's pervious body heat and I slip my arms into the sleeves and fold my legs up into the piece of apparel. Meanwhile, William hops back up onto the machine, only this time, he crosses his legs.

"Thank you," I say to him, not expecting this kind of generosity from a stranger. "So what's your backstory then? You seem to be so keen on mine when I haven't even heard a thing about you. It's only fair."

He chuckles a little at that. "I don't really have a story to tell, or at least, not an interesting one like you."

"And what makes you think I have an interesting story?" I ask. He just raises one eyebrow at me and gives me a look that says, 'really?' 

"Okay, okay, I get it. Touché. But I wanna hear about you, interesting or not."

William hesitates at first, then, "Well, for starters, I grew up in Chicago."

"See? That's interesting!" I encourage.

"Where are you from?"

"Uruguay."

"Oh, yeah, of course! Uruguay isn't interesting at all when it comes to Chicago!" William sarcastically jeers.

"It really isn't. It's just a place like any other, only more... Uruguayan," I try to explain, but fail by the look he's giving me. "Anyway, continue. I wanna hear all about Chicago, William."


End file.
